Music to my toungue
by AsparagusWriting
Summary: Ratatouille. Follows the life of Guillaume, the son of Remy. His life takes a crazy turn after an attack from another rat clan.
1. Epiloque

**Please Review, I would like to have some advice on writing. Also, on my youtube I recorded a song for this chapter, and I am thinking of doing that for every chapter. user/AsparagusWriting  
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Life was easy. I had a stable easy job, in my dad's bistro, and a good social life. I trained every day, and because I worked in a bistro, I didn't have much trouble finding food.

I found myself in a routine. Luckily I was able to using music to escape, so to speak, from my regular life. I played guitar for at least five years, and I was always on the stage at parties. I found myself in a rut of music as well, unfortunately…

It was always the same music. We had a few different genres, but most rats liked dancing to the same type of song sadly. It's like an author always writing the same book really. Everything changed one day.

It was a party arranged by Django. The band was playing some originals, and people seemed to like it. It was a bit scary at first, because we had a new drummer, but when we started playing those scares left our minds.

There was a point in the song where I didn't have to play, so I looked at the partying rats for a second. Dad was telling some story. Probably about finding a new herb or something. I rolled my eyes. Emile, my uncle, was eating something that looked rather nice. I was very hungry, because we had been playing non-stop for 2 hours or something.

Django was talking quite fanatically to a strange rat I hadn't seen before. I asked my bassist, but the rat was also a stranger to him. It was weird, but I had to play a solo. I wish I paid more attention that moment…

First thing I noticed was everyone running away, even the band stopped playing mid-song. I picked up my guitar and amp and ran with them. As I was running I saw what happened. Django was shot in the head.

We ran to the hiding holes that were made in the walls. Mostly used for when the health inspector came by, they really came in handy this time. I ran right into the streets of Paris for a few blocks until I found a spot I felt save. I sat there for a solid hour. Reminded of a human song, I played Sound of Silence, by Simon and Garfunkel. It helped me calm my loneliness and hunger.

"Is everybody present?" Remy asked the troops, when he returned to the bistro. "They can't find Guillaume." One of the counting rats answered. Remy walked around in frustration. "What should we do with the shooter?" One of the soldiers asked. "Interrogate him." He said, raising a smile. "And then… let the rats take care of him."

It was cold in the night. I found some garbage to eat, but still felt very lonely. I looked down the street to see where I was, but, to my terror, I was lost. I walked around until the sunrise, but it felt like I was only going further away from home.

Remy listened to the soldier. "The shooter is a henchman of the cannibals we've been fighting." Remy shrugged his head at the thought of the cannibals. "Any news on Guillaume?" He asked. "We have a few search parties," Remy opened his eyes in hopefulness. "But we didn't find him… yet!" The soldier left the office, after a second of silence.

I looked at all the streets signs, to try to remember something… anything at all. I saw two rats coming from the corner. I walked over to them, which was very dangerous with all the bad rats out there. I wouldn't have done that were it not for the fact that I was lonely, and desperate.

"Hey!" I screamed. The two rats looked over to me. They walked over to me, very slowly, and surrounded me. "You seem like a tasty rat…" One of the two said. I started growing uncomfortable. I tried to step out of the middle, but the rat behind me grabbed me. "Don't run away." The one behind me said. "You will make a great meal…"

"Sarge," one of the rats walking up front looked at the leader of the group. "We have been looking for hours." Another soldier took over. "Yeah, I don't think we are going to find him." He looked around him. "Paris is a big city after all, and quite dangerous." "You're not saying that he is… dead, are you?" Another one responded. "Guys, a lonely rat is out there, in a dangerous city." The sergeant interrupted. "We can't leave him behind like this!"

The two rats were getting closer and closer. I threw my hind paw back right in the crotch of the cannibal. The other one surprised of the sudden turn of events tried to take a jab at me, but I ducked and grabbed the back of his head, only to throw it to the ground. I might not look tough, but I will not be eaten by these two abominations. I ran away from the wailing furballs.

Remy didn't know what to think or do. He started cooking, to clear his mind. He didn't cook his Ratatouille, he did that so many times. No, he made his decision. The original soup he made, when Linguini threw the cauldron to the floor. Remy had to think before he remembered the original recipe, but it didn't take too long.

My fur was ruffled up by the fight. I never wished for some rain more than right now, but Paris was especially weird with weather. I looked at the people walking in the street. Some of them had really expensive clothes on. Really most of them. Except for a red haired boy with curls. He seemed as out of place as Alfredo in the kitchen… Wait, it wás Alfredo. I ran over to him. I walked up on his leg, and on top of his head. Apparently he didn't seem to notice, 'cause he kept on walking.

Alfredo's phone rang. "Hello?" I couldn't quite make out what the other side was saying, but I thought I heard Colette. I heard a question, which Alfredo answered: "No, I haven't found him yet…" Immediately I revealed myself to him, leaving my hiding spot under his cap. He stared at me in wonder, then talked in his phone again. "You can stop searching, I found him."

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**This is not a one-shot story. More chapters to come!**


	2. Change

**The story was changed a little bit so if you haven't seen the new chapter one, there is a new one. Also, on the youtube page user/asparaguswriting there is a new song to go with this chapter.**

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The soup was getting along quite well. Remy was pleased with how he emulated the original 'special order'. Having the original on the plate, he decided it would be a good idea to change it a bit. Change it with the skills he had acquired over the last couple of years. He threw some new herbs in, and tasted the result. "Remy, we have been looking for hours, but we just can't find him." One of the search parties interrupted his creative moment. Remy sighed. "Did I tell you you could stop looking?" He threw a sharp utensil at the group. "Wow, Remy chill." "Chill? Chill!? Who the fuck do you think you're talking to you utter disgrace!" He walked over to the soldier who made the remark. He lowered his voice. "Do I have to remind you who you are talking to?"

Alfredo ran as fast as he could. I looked over to the street signs to see if we were getting anywhere I remembered. "Are you okay up there?" He asked. "Remy was so worried. He was shouting at all the rats…" That was when we passed Gusteau's. The old restaurant was pretty broken down. I guess no one wanted to buy the old place. Come to think of it, that would make a crazy good music club. That was when I saw La Ratatouille.

"Remy, I found Guillaume." Dad looked surprised. I jumped of Alfredo and ran over to him. We embraced for at least a minute. "What happened?" We stopped our hug, and Remy looked down. "Your grandfather was killed by the cannibals," He said. There was a moment of silence. "But we at least got the shooter."

The cannibals were a notorious group in the Paris underworld. They skinned rats live, to only then feast on them. Our clan has been fighting them for at least a hundred years. I remember dad telling stories about him fighting with pops on succeeding the clan. Now he is forced however. Emile couldn't take over, because he was horrible at strategies.

Life was shit. Everything was regulated, there was no freedom and there were more and more attacks everyday. Not a single day went by where I didn't think of leaving. If every single day you see rats looking down, nobody talking to each other and the police stopping to frisk you, then you would feel the same.

Every single day it was waking up, eating a cheap breakfast, and walking to my desk job. I was longing for the days where I could just practice music, and have my work cut out for me.

Dad started to turn crazy in his mind. He never got out of his office, only talked to a handful of people. I was able to talk to him most of the time, and we talked about a lot of things. He mostly asked for advice, as he didn't even trust his own judgement anymore. As for La Ratatouille, well, I never said I wasn't a good chef. I inherited the smell, and I had some original ideas. Basically, I was running the whole show, and that wasn't good for my sanity.

"Guillaume, Remy needs to talk to you again…" Emile came asking this time. We walked over to the office, and Emile left again. I sighed, and opened the door. "Hey son, how are you… doing?" Remy sat behind his desk, almost hiding under it. "I don't have a lot of time, spit your questions out and let me leave." I snapped at him. I was under a lot of stress. "They found another shop." He looked down and got tears in his eyes. "Remember the 70 rats we lost?" He looked to me. "No… Fuck no." I stepped back. "How many survived." "None, we were too late." He started sobbing. "Go!" He yelled.

Standing behind the gas pits, I actually thought of jumping in and ending it all. I was shocked with my own thoughts, but was woken up by Colette. "Why are you not working." She yelled. "Can't you see the dinner rush?" There was no time to think about life anymore, it was only working and hoping you won't get attacked.

What did I need? My guitar, for starters, and some food, so that I don't have to go garbage right away. Maybe take a notebook, stealing another copy would be hard. I was leaving everything behind, and I left all my responsibility. Maybe it was a jerk move, but I didn't care anymore.

"What are you doing?" It was John, my bassist. "What the hell do you think you are doing!" "I'm leaving." He looked at me in spite. "Don't judge me." I threw my fist in the air. "You would've done the same thing." He grabbed my fist. "I wouldn't walk away from my priorities!" I just left him there. "If you go now, you will not be welcomed back!"

Remy listened to the soldier. "So… Guillaume left?" "Yes, pretty much." Remy looked down to the papers on his desk. "Could you please leave me alone now?" The soldiers saluted and left the office. When he closed the door he heard the worst obscenities being shouted.

I walked down the street wondering what way I could go. I was completely free in my steps, and I wasn't gonna let the opportunities pass me by. There were a ton of street musicians. I decided to listen and get some inspiration from some of the very talented rats.

There was one rat that really stood out. He had seemed to have fashioned a piano and an organ small enough for rats to play. "Nice instruments." I walked over to the keyboardist. "Thanks, you play?" "Well, I have played on the piano at home, but not in a long time." I walked behind the piano. "You mind if I try it?" "Go ahead." I played a song by the writer Leonard Cohen. It was an old song, but it holds up really well.

During the song the keyboardist suddenly started playing along. It was great to play some new genre again, with a great talent. "Have you been playing on the streets for a long time?" I asked the musician. "For as long as I remember." He answered. "You seem to be new to this." I was amazed how he figured out. "I mean, you have clean fur, and what seems like a healthy life style." He began to laugh. "Prepare to throw that away."

I guess this was my life now. I was a travelling musician on the streets, and I walked around with a keyboardist. His name was Jotham. Apparently he was raised in the musicians' world, and has been playing piano for 30 years. He found the organ laying in the trash and decided to fix it up.

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	3. Response

**Also for this chapter there is a song, check out the youtube channel user/asparaguswriting**

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We were on the streets for a few months. We became pretty legendary, Jotham and I. We were playing in the streets of Paris, but we didn't have that much money. Don't get me wrong, we had enough to go around, but it was still sleeping on the streets for us. It was exactly what I wanted.

Remy looked at the people sitting in his office. Since Guillaume left a lot of the responsibility fell back on him. At least he was cooking again. La Ratatouille was quite famous, but the cannibals were also rising. Everyday at least ten rats disappeared, but the hiding places were also found.

"Thanks, little chef." Linguini said when he picked up the plate of Ratatouille. It was dinner rush again, and he forgot how very stressful those things could be. It had also been a while since Anton Ego went into the bistro. He wasn't told Remy didn't cook anymore, but I guess Ego tasted it. Remy had tasted Guillaume's food. It was good, but it didn't have any 3 dimensionality. Really all the clients had changed after Guillaume took over.

Remy did some experimenting, and cooked some nostalgic oldies. Time went by really fast, and it was closing time faster than the rat could realise. As Linguini stood in the doorway to leave, Remy walked up on him to signify he wanted to sleep at Linguini's home that day. They walked home to the large house Alfredo and Colette lived in, and entered the big front doors. Colette was out of town for a few weeks on a 'culinary expedition'. She was trying to gain some inspiration for new recipes. She left right after Guillaume; Remy knew she didn't trust him with the kitchen.

We walked next to Alfredo's house. I covered my face to hide myself if he was to look outside. It was a sunny day, but pouring as soon as the sun went down. Jotham tapped my shoulder. "There are some people coming from the corner." With the speed that the silhouette of the person had, I knew right away that it was Alfredo. "Fuck." Jotham turned his vision from the person to me. "Trouble?" He asked. "No… just… annoyance, I guess." The red haired boy was in vision fast, and then right next to us. "Hey." He said. At this point I was hoping dad wasn't with him. "Haven't seen you in some time." He looked around. That was when dad came up from under Alfredo's cloak.

He climbed down his leg and stood next to me. It was an awkward silence broken by Jotham. "Do you guys know each other?" "He's my dad." I said with the least amount of motivation. "I'll just introduce myself then." He said turning his eyes to dad. "Hello," he stuck his hand out. "My name is Jotham. I am Guillaume's musical partner." Dad was very held back. Suddenly Alfredo broke the silence. "You guys seem like you need a ba… are hungry…" He walked to the door. "Wanna come in?" I shook my head, but Jotham was nodding. Guess he never slept in such a big house.

It was fucking awkward in the house. "So… you started cooking again?" Dad nodded. "Well, you left. Who else could've done it?" Jotham started laughing. "You cook?" I punched him in the shoulder. "I did, but I hate it." It was my turn to ask my dad a question. "So, what happened to the problem?" He looked down. "Not much changed, but still rats are disappearing." Jotham got nervous. "Wait what?" "I'll explain later Jotham." Dad stood up from his chair. "I'll go fix you guys up a meal."

Jotham and I talked about new songs to add to our repertoire when dad came back with a tray of food. "I whipped up something with some leftovers in the kitchen." He laid the plates on the tiny table. "You guys don't mind eating with the hands do you?" I tried to object, but Jotham was already digging into his meal, and I didn't wanna be left out completely. We pretty much ate in silence, except for Jotham who was praising the food. I was enjoying the change as well, seeing as I wasn't completely loving garbage already.

We talked a little bit more, but it was about nothing really. I was getting tired, as it was going into the night. Dad saw me yawning, and quite quickly offered a place to sleep. "Has been long since I have been in a bed." I reacted. There was a guest bedroom in the house, and it even had some small beds for the rats. "Pick a bed, I guess." Dad said, and he left. He probably had to work early in the morning, and I kept him up for way too long.

It was way in the night. I woke up from a strange sound, and laid in my bed, thinking in silence. The big questions. The ones everyone has, and no one can answer. That was when I heard sobbing. It came from the bed next to me. "Jotham?" The sobbing stopped. "Ye.. yea?" He tried to sound like he didn't just cry. "Are you okay?" "Yea." I stepped out of bed. "I think I'm going to get out now." I left the bedroom into the hallway. I saw dad standing in the huge living room.

"Emile is no where to be found." I walked over to him. "What?" He turned to me. "They fucking got Emile!" "How much troops do you have looking for him?" He walked over to me. "At least five." "Good." Jotham heard the sounds from the hallway, because he too got out of bed. "You guys get some more sleep, I'll handle it."

I couldn't sleep, and Jotham was not going to leave me alone in this tense moment. Dad left the house, and went to the office to have a meeting. We were alone in the house, because Alfredo brought him there. Jotham and I were discussing what song we could play. "Make you feel my love is a nice one." Jotham nodded in agreement. We set up our instruments, and started playing. Jotham played the piano, and I played the guitar and sang.

Remy sat in his chair, listening to the officer. "We have a few troops working on finding Emile." Suddenly the big doors open. One of the messengers came in. "They want to trade!" Remy stood up and walked to the messenger. "What?" "They want to trade Emile for a hostage."

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	4. Falling

**I'm sorry this one is a little later, but because of the lag of reviews I'm less motivated. Yet again I have recorded a song for the chapter and you can find it at the youtube page user/asparaguswriting**

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So there we were, in Linguini's house. "We could go there." Jotham suddenly suggested. I looked at him, and thought of the idea. "At least I would know what the fuck is going on." We picked up our instruments, and made our way to the office. Finally my tiredness started to set in. I tripped and almost fell of the roof we were walking on. Jotham grabbed my arm just in time. "Fuck, get your shit together Guillaume!" He pulled me up and we started walking again. We had a long walk ahead of us, so Jotham and I had a lot of chance to talk.

"I heard a band on the radio today." Jotham started the conversation. "Nice, what are they called?" "Muse, I think." He looked up, as rats do to remember things. "They had a song about some black hole." He looked at me. "We really need to go to a record store again, find some good tunes to cover." I nodded. "I was woken up by some sound, did you hear that?" He frowned and looked down. "Yea, I think I did." I went on. "I also heard some... sobbing noise?" Jotham sighed. "I haven't been completely fair to you…"

"But we don't _have_ any hostages!" Remy reacted to the messenger. The group sat in silence. "Why don't you fake it?" a soldier suddenly suggested. "Forgive me for giving a remark, while I'm supposed to be silent." Everyone looked at the young rat. His officer tried to reprimand the soldier, but was stopped by Remy. "Let him speak, he seems to have a good idea." The soldier sat down on one of the chairs, and made him comfortable. "Imagine this:"

Jotham was not some really talented street musician. He was the heir to a pretty strong clan. The same clan we had been fighting for so long. He never wanted to be part of it, and always fought with his father over it. He left the clan, and brought his organ and piano with him. It did explain where he got his expensive organ from.

"How long have you been on the streets?" I asked him. "Must have been 10 years now." "How long have you been playing then?" He looked at me. "I have not been lying about that." A smile escaped from his down looking face. "I have always played piano." We went down to the street, and into the doors of the bistro.

Dad was preparing some trick to pull against the cannibals. They were going to fake giving a hostage for Emile, but in fact it was another rat with a tracking device. It seemed like a solid plan to me. I also met John in the commotion. He didn't even want to look at me. I yelled something along the lines of "What was I supposed to do!" before Jotham instructed me to move on. "Someone you know?" I rolled my eyes. "My old bass player. We… are not on speaking terms." "What happened?" He asked while opening the office doors. "He didn't like me leaving…"

"Who is going to be the brave soldier playing as the hostage?" Dad asked. There was a moment of silence. "I'll do it." Jotham stood up out of his chair. "No!" I stood up right after him. "They'll kill you when you come back." "It's going to be okay." Dad looked at Jotham. "Well, it's believable enough, you sure you wanna do this?" Jotham nodded.

The others had to prepare some stuff first, so Jotham and I had some time to play some music, which we off course didn't let us pass by. I was setting up my amplifier, when Jotham left to take care of something. I played some scales to warm myself up, and took a look at the chords that Jotham gave me, along with the lyrics. It was French, a language I wasn't particularly good at. Most rats talked English, so it wasn't that much of a problem.

Jotham walked over to John, to have a little chat. "So what's up between you and Guillaume?" He cut right to the chase. John sighed. "Guillaume had a lot of responsibilities here, basically running the place." Jotham nodded. "Then he has to go all fucking hipster and leave us." "Would you like to life an impassionate life with all the worries of a leader, not being able to do what you really love?" John started to yell. "You think that I didn't have the same problem!" Jotham laid his paw on John's shoulder. "Sit down with me, please."

Jotham came back through the door. I saw John coming through the doorway as well, and I stood up. We both had the expression in our faces of 'What the fuck are we doing?' A few moments passed of us just standing there, before we flew into each others arms. "I'm so sorry man, I couldn't take it anymore." "Hello, we don't have a lot of time!" Jotham suddenly interrupted our moment.

I picked up my guitar and John his bass. Jotham was standing behind his keyboard, and counted down. We played a song Jotham heard on an indie radio channel. I don't remember the title, but it was a really nice song. Dramatic. It also felt great to finally play with John again. "That was fucking great." John said. I wanted to say something back, but we were interrupted by a soldier coming to pick up Jotham.

John talked to me about how everything in his life was going. He worked a nine to five job, and never had the time to play the bass. He started working as a typist during meetings, but quite quickly became one of the advisors. We kept on talking for a few minutes. That was when I realised something.

"Dad!" I ran into the room. "Couldn't we just give back the shooter?" It was dead silent in the room. One of the officers started talking. "We… killed him." More awkward silence followed. "Oh…" I said, as I walked of to the room where they were preparing Jotham.

"Are you sure they won't do anything to you?" I asked, standing next to the rat. "Trust me, it will be fine." Jotham comforted me. One of the rats was busy hiding some tracing equipment behind the fur, ruffling it up as they were going along. The equipment was basically a wire. It couldn't be too big, because if else you couldn't hide it. It was pretty long, because there was a lot of stuff in there.

"Time to go!" Dad suddenly walked into the room. Jotham stood up from his chair, not realising one of the tracer hiders was stuck under the wire, dragging him along. "Sorry!" Jotham said. I walked with them to the front door of the bistro, but had to stay behind. A few officers walked with Jotham to the rendezvous point, but even dad stayed behind.

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	5. Resolution

**I've decided that I don't want to do this bullshit anymore. I'm not writing a story if no one is going to read it. I kept writing because I had one follower, but I don't have that follower anymore, so I'm done. I have too much issues in my life to fix, and can't use writing as an escape pod anymore, because no one even cared to give me a review.**


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